Executive Intent (10 page)

…and in moments the conference table transformed into a huge holographic computer-generated map of Pakistan. The men and women around the conference table stood to get a better look at the incredible imagery. As they watched, mountains and valleys appeared out of the tabletop in three dimensions; rivers and cities appeared, with floating names near them. Some details were mere computer wire structures, while others were in stunning full-color photographic detail. The map slowly zoomed in to a place in western Pakistan east of the city of Quetta.

“This damn thing always gives me vertigo,” the president mut
tered to Conrad Carlyle, his longtime friend and national security adviser. “I feel like I'm skydiving from space. Incredible detail, though.”

“The system stitches together dozens of different sources of data—satellite and photoreconnaissance all the way to simple drawings—chooses the best and most recent info, and fuses it together into one image,” Carlyle said. “But we can go back to old maps and slides if you'd prefer.”

“After what we just paid for this thing? Not on your life.”

“Quetta, capital of Balochistan province,” General Kelly said, pointing to the laser-projection map. “Three Shaheen-2 mobile intermediate-range ballistic missiles belonging to the Pakistan army's Fourteenth Strategic Rocket Brigade have been deployed to presurveyed launch points east of the city.”

“What's going on?” the president asked. “What's the Pakistani army up to?”

“We're not sure it
is
the Pak army, sir—we haven't detected any other military units on the move,” Kelly replied.

“We're afraid of the worst here, sir,” Gerald Vista, the director of national intelligence, interjected. “Quetta has been largely occupied by Taliban and al-Qaeda forces since 2009, and it's only been a matter of time before they got their hands on a missile capable of carrying weapons of mass destruction. It could also be rogue elements of the military.”

“No other deployments?”

“Standard military deployments only, sir, mostly on the Afghan and Indian borders. No other rocket deployments or alerts.”

“This is not an exercise, correct?” the president asked.

“Correct, sir. If it's a Pakistani exercise, they didn't announce it to us.”

“Damn,” Gardner muttered. “Do we think India has detected these rockets?”

“No sign of any Indian responses, sir,” Kelly answered.

“Let's hope they don't get spooked,” Gardner said. “Alert our embassies, consulates, and military units in Pakistan, India, and Afghanistan—wake them up, but don't let them know what's happening, yet, in case our alerts are intercepted. Get President Mazar on the phone.” Within the next few minutes, the vice president, Kenneth Phoenix, and the president's secretary of defense, Miller Turner, hurried into the Situation Room, followed shortly thereafter by the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Taylor J. Bain, and the White House chief of staff, Walter Kordus, and they were quickly brought up to speed. “Well?” the president thundered over his shoulder to no one in particular. “Where's Mazar?”

“An aide told us that Mazar is aware of the developments in Balochistan and he is busy getting it under control,” a communications officer said.

“Shit,” the president murmured. “He's either lying and doesn't know, or he knows but can't do anything about it. What are those rockets?”

“Shaheen-2 is an intermediate-range ballistic missile, sir,” Admiral Kelly said. “It could have a conventional or nonconventional warhead—they've even tested a model with multiple reentry warheads.”

“‘Nonconventional warhead'?”

“Pakistan does have weaponized chemical and biological warheads for their tactical missiles, and they are known to have as many as two hundred and forty nuclear warheads, ranging from one-to two-hundred-kiloton yields.”

“Shit. What range?”

“They can easily reach New Delhi, sir,” Kelly said. “Solid-propellant motors, so once in launch position and aligned, they could fire at any time. India has an array of Russian air defense systems, but no true antiballistic-missile weapons to our knowledge.”

“Christ. What do we have out there? Where are the carriers?”

“The
Stennis
battle group is in the Arabian Sea right now,” Carlyle said, referring to his notes. “There is a guided-missile cruiser, the
Decatur,
making a port call in Karachi. It has the SM-3 antiballistic-missile system aboard.”

“Excellent,” Gardner said. But he looked at the electronic chart and frowned. “Can those SM-3s fly that far if the Shaheens are launched toward New Delhi?” He looked at Admiral Kelly and instantly knew that he had thought the same question and had come up with a bad result. “Dammit. Contact the
Decatur
and tell them to give it a try anyway. Maybe they'll get lucky.”

“Mr. President,” Vice President Phoenix said, “I recommend authorizing Armstrong to respond if the rockets launch.”

President Gardner looked confused. “Authorize who?”

“Armstrong Space Station, sir,” Phoenix said. He pointed at the electronic laser-generated chart. “Most of this video and intel is coming from the space station's satellite networks—they have almost constant watch over almost every part of the globe. They were the ones who initiated the alert.” He touched controls on the edge of the table, and the image zoomed in to the Pakistani rockets themselves. Touching the screen, he turned the image until they were looking at the rockets as if hovering just over them on a helicopter. “Look at the detail—you can see the wheels on those transporter-erector-launchers.” The fine detail disappeared, but only for a few moments. “The image changes when one satellite goes out of sight until another one comes in again.” He returned the image to the area around the launch site. “Armstrong controls a network of space-based antiballistic-missile interceptors. I recommend authorizing a shoot-down.”

“Space-based ABMs? I thought they were just experimental.”

“I understand they are not fully operational, but they might have enough ready to do the job.”

The president frowned at Phoenix, surprised and a little annoyed that he knew so much about the space station. He turned to
General Bain. “I want to talk with someone on that space station,
now
.”

“Yes, sir.” Bain picked up a telephone. “Get me Armstrong Space Station.” A few moments later, Bain pressed the speakerphone button on the phone: “General Raydon, this is General Bain in the Situation Room. Report.”

“Armstrong has been monitoring a number of known or suspected missile launch points in Pakistan, India, and several other countries, and we came across these three in Pakistan, sir,” Raydon said. “It could be an exercise or a training session, but we're not seeing the usual deployments of security personnel around the area—anytime they take one of those things out of the garage, even for an exercise, they normally set up a lot of security. We've been looking, and we don't see any. That's why we issued the alert.”

“We tried calling Islamabad—they said they're aware of the situation and are working on it.”

“That doesn't sound good, sir. We're standing by.”

“This is President Gardner, General Raydon,” Gardner interjected. “What exactly do you propose to do?”

“The Shaheen-2 ballistic missile flies to an altitude of between sixty and one hundred fifty miles, sir,” Raydon said. “That's well within the Trinity's engagement envelope. The problem is, we don't have a complete constellation of OMVs to—”

“OMVs? What the hell is that?”

“Orbital Maneuvering Vehicles—interceptors, sir,” Raydon said.

“Then just say ‘interceptor' and let's cut the crap,” Gardner said hotly. “So can you take those things out, yes or no?”

“If we have a Kingfisher—a weapon platform—within range at the time the missiles reach apogee, we can nail them. Our constellation is incomplete, so there's just a fifty percent chance we'll have a platform in range. Am I authorized to engage, sir?”

“Stand by, General,” Gardner said. He hit the “HOLD” button
on the phone. “Get Mazar on the phone again, and this time I want to talk with him directly.”

“All embassies and consulates have acknowledged our warning message and are standing by,” Kordus said.

Gardner nodded, scanning the map, thinking hard. “Can the
Decatur
launch cruise missiles and take those things out?” he asked finally.

Bain measured the distances with his eyes. “About three hundred miles…it would take the TLAMs over a half hour to hit their targets after launch,” he replied.

“Half an hour
…
?”

“The Paks would certainly see or detect the launch,” Vice President Phoenix said, “and they might respond against the
Decatur
or against India.”

“India would certainly retaliate,” Bain added, “probably with WMDs.”

“Mr. President, President Mazar's office says he will call you immediately when the current situation has terminated,” the communications officer said.

“Dammit,” Gardner swore. He looked at his advisers around the huge electronic map. “All right, folks, let me hear options.”

“No choice, Mr. President—we have to take those missiles out,” Secretary of Defense Turner said. “Mazar won't say if he ordered those missiles to deploy or not, or if he's planning on launching them, or if some Taliban gang got hold of them. A cruise-missile attack is the only way.”

“I agree, sir,” National Security Adviser Carlyle said. “We should launch immediately.”

“General?”

“Agreed,” Bain said.

“Ken?”

“Notify New Delhi and Islamabad first,” the vice president said.

“But I think we might have another option. General Raydon?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You and Undersecretary Page briefed the National Security Council last year on these weapon platforms of yours,” Phoenix said. “You said they were being armed with self-defense and antiballistic-missile weapons, but you also mentioned as a footnote the space attack weapon. I seem to remember you had a successful test of that weapon back then, so I assume you are still testing it.”

“Yes, sir. It's called ‘Mjollnir'—‘Thor's Hammer.'” Several of the president's advisers raised their eyebrows, just now remembering; President Gardner still looked confused.

“What's its status?”

“Still in research and development, sir,” Raydon said.

“Undersecretary Page and Secretary Banderas seemed to indicate it was well beyond that stage, General,” Phoenix said. “What's the
real
status?”

There was a slight, uncomfortable pause; then: “Mjollnir has been deployed on all of the weapon platforms for mate, stability, and connectivity tests, sir.”

“What's this all about, Ken?” the president asked.

“There's a weapon on those orbiting garages that can take out those missiles…in
seconds,
not minutes.”

“What?”

“If a garage is in position, it can fire a precision-guided penetrator that can take out those missiles,” Phoenix said. “General Raydon, when do you have a garage in position?”

“Stand by, sir.” A moment later: “One Trinity vehicle carrying a Mjollnir reentry weapon with three penetrator sabots will be over the target's horizon in about two minutes, and will be in optimum launch position for about ninety seconds. The next one won't be in position for twenty-seven minutes.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a damn minute,” Gardner said. “What are these penetrators? Are they nuclear?”

“They are simply titanium shapes, like a big antitank sabot round, sir,” Raydon said. “They have no explosive warhead of any
kind—they're designed to destroy with sheer velocity and mass. They reenter Earth's atmosphere at greater than orbital speed: thousands of miles an hour, like a meteor.”

“A
meteor
?”

“Ninety seconds to go, sir,” Raydon said. “Yes, Mr. President, the reentry vehicle carries three sabots through the atmosphere and then uses sensors to get a precise fix on the target before releasing the sabots at hypersonic speed. Shall I engage?”

“Just shut the hell up, all of you,” the president said. He stared at the holographic map in front of him, uncertainty evident in his face.

“Mr. President, Prime Minister Pawar of India is on the line.”

The president snatched up the phone. “Mr. Prime Minister, this is Joseph Gardner…yes, sir, this is indeed an emergency. We have detected three Pakistani rockets that appear to be in launch position. We have attempted to contact President Mazar but he won't talk to me. He—yes, sir, I'm told they appear to be Shaheen-2 intermediate-range ballistic missiles.”

“Thirty seconds, Mr. President,” Raydon said.

“Mr. Prime Minister, I don't have much time,” Gardner said. “I am advising you that I intend on attacking these rockets…using cruise missiles fired from sea.” Most of the president's advisers looked relieved; Phoenix looked confused. “I'm doing this because…yes, from a U.S. warship visiting Karachi. I don't want you to mistake it for an attack against India. I don't know who is in control of those rockets, and for the safety of the entire region I…they are positioned east of Quetta, at a town called—”

“Platform's over the horizon, sir,” Raydon said. “Ninety seconds before we lose it.”

“Mr. Prime Minister, I didn't call you so you could attack those rockets yourself,” Gardner said. “I think that would spark a wider exchange between India and Pakistan. I called to advise you of our actions so you wouldn't try to attack. I'm urging you to let us take action and asking you to be on extra alert but do not take offensive
action. I am asking that you—” The president's expression turned blank, then to disbelief, then to red-hot anger. “Shit, he hung up!” He slammed the phone onto its cradle so hard the holographic images on the Situation Room's conference table shimmered. “Get him on the line again, and then—”